


cold weather

by Skullszeyes



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cold, Cold Weather, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, Drugs, Friendship, I'm Bad At Titles, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Not Beta Read, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Elliot woke up on a bench and phoned Tyrell.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	cold weather

**Author's Note:**

> tbh, I don't have any motivation to write, so I tried. :) I just wanted to write another Tyrelliot fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I didn't edit this.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

He woke up on a bench. Cold and unaware. He pushed himself up and sauntered away. The flurries were becoming more ice as he walked down the street. His face was numb, cheeks flushed from how long he’s been lying there. He should’ve known better not to have taken the drugs when he did. He would lie anywhere, but at first, it was for a few seconds and from the state of his phone now saying it was eight at night, he didn’t think he stayed for only a few seconds.

Half an hour?

Elliot scowled.

Did he lie on that bench for half an hour or was he still high?

Elliot sniffled, he dialed a number, placed the cold phone to his numb face, and sniffled again, then he continued walking down the street, trying to recall where he was going and what he was doing.

“You need somewhere to sleep?”

“What?” Elliot asked, blinking his cold eyelids and sighed, he was really out of it that he hadn’t realized he was now talking to Tyrell. How long has he been talking to him?

“About five seconds,” said Tyrell, letting out a sigh. “Are you high?”

“No,” Elliot said, slapping the side of his face. “No. I’m not high.”

“You’re high. Why are you hitting yourself?”

“I’m cold,” Elliot said. His mouth was numb, full of peanut butter. He glanced around the street, trying to find something familiar amongst the glassy streetlights and tall shadowed buildings.

Tyrell sighed again, a disappointed, tired, exhausted sigh, the same kind of sigh that Elliot sometimes heard when Tyrell talked to people he didn’t want to talk too. Elliot wanted to hang up the phone.

“I’m hanging up,” said Elliot, about to hang up.

“Wait, Elliot, where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”

Elliot wrinkled his cold nose. “I’m…” he said the street through the peanut butter, then tripped into the snow and fell hard on the icy pavement. All he could feel was the coldness, the terrible embrace of a wintery storm coming in through the streets of the wide city. He wanted to sleep again, somewhere close by, on the bench he had just come from.

Then he was being picked up, and he was steadied into a sitting position and was staring into icy blue eyes of one beautiful morning, but it was dark, and the lights barely touched these eyes, and now they looked kind of tense and lost.

“Where’s your phone?” Tyrell asked.

Elliot groaned. The pain was sneaking into his skin, at the crunch of his frozen clothes, and ice-bitten fingers. “I don’t know.”

Tyrell looked around and found it a few feet away from Elliot. It slid from his fingers when he fell, and while Elliot was trying to get back his senses, Tyrell was looking through his phone like a jealous girlfriend or boyfriend, or whatever. Someone who snoops through phones when they think they know something that they don’t.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Elliot asked. He kind of wished getting high was easier in the winter, and maybe he shouldn’t have taken that walk. It was easier without the stupid walk, but he always got so damn restless, like he should be doing something.

“You phoned your drug dealer.” New one. “A few times, maybe at seven-thirty, I’m guessing you did your shit, passed out somewhere around here, then phoned me cause you had no idea where the fuck you were.”

Oh shit. The walk was for his drug dealer.

“I walked for my drug dealer,” Elliot chuckled, shivery from the cold.

“Can you move your fingers?”

“I wasn’t out here that long,” said Elliot.

“Can you move your fucking—” Elliot moved his hands in Tyrell’s who clasped them, trying to warm him up. “I have a car. You’re coming back with me unless you want to go to your apartment.”

“Are you coming with me?” Elliot asked as Tyrell helped Elliot to his feet.

“If you want me too,” said Tyrell.

Elliot was wrecked when he sat in Tyrell’s nice black car, watching the lights flash by, the buildings becoming a blur, then he was trying his best to curl himself into a ball until Tyrell helped him out of the car. There was nothing all that warm about his eyes when he held Elliot. There was actually nothing there...he seemed empty, tired, exhausted.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, now get your keys out and unlock your door.”

Elliot sighed, and did what Tyrell told him to do, and once they were inside his apartment, he flicked on one of the lights, then fell onto the couch.

“Your bed is right there.”

“I’m cold…” Elliot murmured in the cushion.

Tyrell sighed, the same damn sigh that made Elliot feel useless. He took off Elliot’s shoes, his socks, then turned him around and took off his sweater. Then they were staring at one another. “You’re going to have to change into different clothes. The ice is melting, and it must be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll wear shorts.”

Tyrell dug around for shorts while Elliot sat up and covered his face with his hands, and looked at the glass table, at his mess sitting there in the open. Tyrell seen it. Not like it mattered.

Tyrell tossed the shorts at Elliot who was too tired, too high, to give a shit, and he changed in front of Tyrell who was frowning at him. And when he was finished, ignoring everything in his apartment, he flopped down onto the bed.

“Stay with me,” Elliot said against his pillow.

Tyrell took off his coat, including his shoes, he flicked off the lights and laid with Elliot under the blankets. “Can you stop wandering around, high.”

“Can you stop sighing like I’m about to burn the world down.”

“I’d expect it, but you’re the one lying down in the snow.” Tyrell pressed his hands to Elliot’s face. “Are you warm?”

“Closer,” Elliot whispered, and moved closer himself.

Tyrell held Elliot, and softly massaged the back of his head until Elliot fell asleep.


End file.
